Thursday, October 03, 2002

I’ve got mechanical legs
A will made of silly putty tonight

An 8 yr. Olds yearnings
An 800 yr. Old soul

A happy/old soul
That same old happy soul, I don’t know…


You know what, i'm sitting here
and my mind is blanker than this computer screen…

I could tell you about anything.
The possibilities and areas of potential discussion are endless…
But I might cheese out on ya’
My…strength is dwindling…(gasp!)

I could tell you about how tired and fed up with my stupid job I was today,
And then went on my lunch break, read the paper, read a story about Russian fisherman who walk for two hours in the snow, carving small holes in the ice to catch maybe if their lucky five or more of a certain type of small fish.
Thousands of these fishermen need to be rescued each year because the ice sometimes cracks and separates from the mainland and they float out to sea, only for their ice rafts to get progressively smaller and smaller. Some drown. Some are found in the morning dead of hypothermia. All for something to do. All for maybe a couple extra bucks a month. More food for the family.

And we complain?

Well, yeah. It’s our nature; it’s been programmed into us to focus on what we DON’T have as opposed to what we DO. Mongrels of mankind licking out of half-filled water dishes.


A little part of me was envious of those Russian fishermen,
I was jealous of the raw simplicity of their needs and lifestyle.
We were unwillingly born into this social contract and I understand that, and since I don’t know of any other existence, I’ll lick this lollipop life of mine clean…

To have your resources and availabilities determined by the natural order of life, your success determined by the whims of Mother Nature? You can’t fight it. You accept it. So it goes. The grass is never green on the other side of the fence. No fence! No grass! Y’dig?

Ahhhh! Such sweet and utter simplicity. Geez, the way I’m talking I probably herded Muskrats in the Tundra in my past life.

No. I was a monkey.
A lazy monkey lying on my back
On my bed made of leaves atop the tallest tree in the jungle. Staring at the sky.
Making bananas out of the rushing cloud formations. Reaching out a wrinkly hand, trying to touch them, thinking them real. I want to catch them and stuff them in my mouth.

Are they good to eat? I think to myself in monkey thoughts…

In that life I never catch those clouds…but somehow,

I know that they are.


MonkeyThomas Malone

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